Armand’s face was set in the same stubborn blankness she had seen before. But of course, he’d learned nothing new. He already knew all about Erec and the forestborn and the Devourer. He already knew they were hopeless.
Rachelle closed her eyes and let Erec drag her away.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
Erec led them through the Chateau, and it was almost the Forest. Bleeding through the marble hallways, Rachelle saw labyrinthine paths between trees whose branches wove together overhead until they seemed like a single plant. Birds called with warbling, half-human voices. The wind dug its fingers into her hair, burned at her eyes.
Erec’s arm stayed over her shoulders. It felt warm, solid, human. But in all the time she had known him, he had never been human. She felt his hand cupped over her right shoulder. He had given her the knife with that hand, he had wrapped her fingers around the hilt and told her to cut deep.
A month later, he had given her the strength to protect people when he told her to live.
The walk lasted only a few minutes; then they bowed low to pass under an arch in the roots of a monstrous tree, and on the other side was Erec’s study, bizarrely bright and free of the Forest. Suddenly only one of the forestborn was with them, and now he looked like a short, pasty-faced servant who gripped Armand’s arm with chubby fingers.
“Take him to a safe place and keep him there,” said Erec. “My lady and I have some things to discuss.”
She didn’t look at Armand while he was dragged out. She didn’t look because she was terrified of what she would see in his face, but also because she knew that the less Erec thought she cared for him, the better for the both of them.
“So,” she said when the door had swung shut. “Is the King still human?”
Erec laughed. “Oh, he’s human enough. And a very great fool. He thinks we’re going to give him eternal youth and create him a bloodbound army.”
“Are you?”
“We’re building an army,” he said. “You met one of them. Perfect, mindless hunger makes the best servants, you know. But I’m afraid the King won’t live to use them.”
She should have been past surprise by now, but his words still made her breath stutter.
“That woman,” she said. “In the coffeehouse—”
“Escaped from us, yes, and fell in with those idiot malcontents. But that nest, at least, we cleaned out the next day.”
Rachelle didn’t need to ask what “cleaned out” meant. She remembered the weeping daughter, the husband who had called her a murderer. Erec had killed them. Probably while Amélie had been painting rouge on her face.
“If you’re so powerful,” she asked, “why do you need the King’s permission?”
“Because of the binding that those interfering children laid upon our master. We cannot mark one of the royal house without permission from another who holds the Royal Gift.” He grinned at her. “A problem I did not encounter with you.”
“You killed my aunt,” she said, her voice scraping in her throat like broken glass.
“No, my lady, you did.”
She flinched a step back. “Erec, why are you doing this? You can’t—you can’t really want—”
He had the same superior, amused expression that he always had when he managed to shock her. “What? Endless Night? I welcome it.”
“But all those times we hunted woodspawn together— You taught me to protect people.”
“No, my lady, I told you to live.” His voice was gently teasing. “Protecting the sheep of this world was your heresy on my doctrine.”
“And telling me to live,” she said bitterly, “that was just so I’d be of use to you, wasn’t it?”
“No,” he said. “I do love you, my lady.”
She snorted. “As a wolf loves its meat.”
“Oh no,” he said. “I went to your village to kill you and your aunt, because there was a rumor that you guarded Durendal. But then I spoke to you and you were brave, and I fell in love with you.” He took a step toward her and she stepped back, running into his desk. “Observe how kind I have been to you. I let you choose to become a bloodbound. I let you choose to make love to me.”
“And if I hadn’t?”
“Might-have-beens are for poets. What matters is, you chose me. And I have chosen you to rule beside me.”
She remembered his voice in the Forest: I bring you good news of great joy.